Lineage
by Spirit Seer
Summary: A collection of one-shots of the heroes of Golden Sun: Dark Dawn as they each ponder what being the descendants of the previous games' heroes means to them. First up: Amiti, our problem child, determines the identity of his father and feels nothing but shame...
1. Amiti: Descendance

Disclaimer: I do not own Golden Sun or any of its sequels. They belong to their respective owners.

**A/N:** This is intended to be a collection of one-shots (finally posting has finally begun!) on the children of the Warriors of Vale and those that join them as they ponder their lineage and what it means to them. First up is our favorite child for conjecture!

_Warning:_ This is a collective conjecture, so unless you've read another fanfic(s) that had this theme or have finished Golden Sun: Dark Dawn, there might be some spoilers.

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Amiti - Part One : _Shame_

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It used to be so simple.

His life—or, more to the point, his purpose in life—had been so clear-cut that he had never questioned it.

Amiti had been the Blessed Child of Ayuthay, son of the woman who restarted the Alchemy Well with the same powers that had conceived him. His powers had been a reflection of her, and he had been loved because of his existence and his mother. He had watched over Ayuthay as the prince with his uncle, King Paithos, and Ayuthay had in turn watched over them. He had never suffered true hardship, and he had always been secure in his identity.

That security had been the innocence and naivety of his childhood. Now, Amiti was forced to face the realities of his life like an adult.

He needed to know the truth. That was both his vocalized and unspoken goal on their journey that was first to claim a Roc feather and now to fix the world that they were manipulated into injuring.

Amiti looked out over the gently undulating ocean, the sea breeze quietly caressing his hair. On a normal day, he would have been entranced to stand and watch the mesmerizing waters of the world. Now, he could only stare at the ravaging shadows that he had helped spawn and lean upon the sword of guilt stabbing him, knowing the irreversible deaths that resulted from breaking their promise to Laurel left their blood on his hands. His eyes narrowed on the shadows on the faraway mainland, the sunlight dancing upon his arms doing nothing to chase the darkness away from there or in his heart. Amiti leaned against the wooden rail of Brigg's ship and pondered the words of the Waelda's partner that haunted both his waking and dreaming mind.

_A descendant of a relative of Mia's…_

A pit sank into the depths of his stomach. Knowledge was what he had come on this journey to claim, but now, Amiti was uncertain if this possible—no, probable—truth was one that he wanted to acknowledge.

He now knew that his father was a Water Adept. A Water Adept's power was required to start the Alchemy Well, and as his mother had no psynergetic power, the only source of his powers was conclusively his father. Therefore, it was further conclusive, also in line with his uncle's testimony, that his father was a Water Adept.

The only problem was that Water Adepts, outside of Lemuria, were about as scarce as Wind Adepts.

He knew how scarce they were, because he had discussed the adventures of the Warriors of Vale—it was still amazing that they were his friends' _parents_—with them. There were only two sources of Adepts with Mercury psynergy: Imil and Lemuria. From there, the only Lemurian that had left was Piers, and he had been exiled for fulfilling the orders of his king. There were no other Lemurians outside of Lemuria in Weyard, let alone a colony. Imil had once been a colony, but due to the sealing of Alchemy, the Mercury Clan had dwindled until there remained only Mia and her cousin, the traitor Alex, who disappeared after the famed quest was over. He was presumed dead.

After assessing his pool of information, he had toyed with the idea that Piers was his father. After all, Piers had been traveling the world; it was plausible that he had gone to Ayuthay and could have restarted the Alchemy Well. He even had a ship with which he could have left in. It was a faint hope, but one that went unspoken and was short-lived following the visit to the Waelda Tret and Laurel.

First, he had feared his aloof treatment by Tret was due to his misplaced belief that they had been gods. He believed that he had offended him in spite of Laurel's forgiveness, but then his comments spoke otherwise.

Tret was cold to him because of his lineage.

_A descendant of a relative of Mia's…_

Amiti gripped the edge of the railing, still refusing to stare the truth in the face. He couldn't believe it. He wouldn't.

The truth was too painful.

It sat on the outskirts of his mind, waiting to be acknowledged as he deliberately pushed it away. He couldn't avoid it for long, however; the pieces of the puzzle fit together too snugly.

_A descendant of a relative of Mia's…_

There was only one person would have wanted to have hidden his existence, even among a group of strangers. There was really only one answer, just as there was really only one person it could have been.

_A descendant of a relative of Mia's…_

Mia had only had one other relative.

Staring truth in the face, Amiti wasn't sure if he wanted to scream or cry. He turned his back on the immediate calm waters and the faraway shadows on the mainland. Losing his desire to stand, he slid down the railing and sat on the deck, staring at the rotting wood of the splintering floor.

_A descendant of a relative of Mia's…_

Not only had significance in his birth been stolen when his uncle told him that he had had a father and his mother was not the real person to reawaken the Alchemy Well, now… he wasn't a blessed child.

He was a cursed child.

_A descendant of a relative of Mia's…_

He gritted his teeth.

He wouldn't accept the truth.

_A descendant of a relative of Mia's…_

He pounded his fist on the deck, mirthlessly surprised that the wood didn't give way beneath it.

He wouldn't face it.

_A descendant of a relative of Mia's…_

He drew his knees up against his chest, his clenching fingers gripping them tighter to himself as he squeezed his eyes painfully shut.

He wouldn't face it.

He couldn't.

_A descendant of a relative of Mia's…_

He was afraid of the answer, of the implications of it; but, as he rested his forehead on his knees, his desperate struggle gave away, and the truth whispered itself in his mind.

The truth he couldn't ignore.

_A descendant of a relative of Mia's…_

His father was Alex.

His father—the traitor of the Warriors of Vale, the one who had attempted to steal the Golden Sun and gain immortality instead of assisting to save the world.

Amiti had never felt ashamed of his existence, of his powers, until that moment.

He—it—was the reflection of his father, the one he had wanted to know and now wished he didn't. The one who probably didn't even know that he existed.

The one who probably didn't even love him or realize the pain he was causing his only child. (If he was his only child.)

The one who almost made him ashamed to face his friends, the children of the enemies of his father.

If they learned the truth, would they treat him as an enemy as well?

Would they see his father instead of Amiti?

And based off of his previous comments, had Kraden already guessed and simply been afraid to speak of it?

Had Kraden already told his friends, or had they guessed on their own?

Would they shun him?

Amiti's strength went slack as he gave in to his warring emotions. Grateful his friends—if he were still allowed to claim them as such—were not near him on the deck, he did the only thing that he had the strength left to do—

He cried.

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**A/N:** Wow. That turned out angsty-er than I'd thought. Thanks for reading; please share your thoughts!

With the exception of a verb tense change, shameless plug is shameless. Thank my bud Leoshi, lol.

Next is Matthew…


	2. Matthew: Identity

Disclaimer: I don't own any part of the Golden Sun games. That belongs to Camelot and their respective owners.

A/N: Aaaand here's Part 2 with Matthew! I apologize for the long wait, but I'm back home for the summer now. Hopefully, that will bring more time for writing. Please enjoy!

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Matthew: _Identity_

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The first thing people spoke of when they looked at him was his parents.

Although understandable—he was the child of _the_ Isaac and Jenna, two of the Warriors of Vale that restored Alchemy to Weyard—it was sometimes a little unnerving. He would stand there under the weight of their gaze and shiver under their tinted eyes, eyes that were glinting with expectation of how they expected him to be exactly as they imagined.

To have the same strength and courage as his father.

To have the same wit and fiery spirit as his mother.

Sometimes, that loss of identity scared him.

Was Matthew, or was he his parents? Was the child supposed to follow in the footsteps of his parents. or was he supposed to forge his own path?

Did the child have a choice?

Some of the people he encountered apparently never considered it. He was expected to be just like his father, just like his mother, live up their names and exploits, never waver in the face of terror…

The pressure they cloaked him with felt like a curse sometimes.

Matthew closed his eyes, shutting off his view of the mainland now covered in shadow from the edge of Briggs's boat. The feelings only churned and twisted inside him further as he tried to hide it from his face. Thankfully, everyone else was resting; however, the peaceful silence he had initially anticipated only brought the same questions that had haunted him forever.

He gave up fighting them, allowing them to plague him. As he did so, he hoped once again that it would be the last.

But it probably wouldn't be.

He sighed, turning around and choosing instead of sit, draw his knees to his chest, and rest his chin on his crossed arms.

Was he Matthew? Or his father, Isaac? His mother, Jenna? People claimed that he looked like Isaac, but that he had his mother's eyes. Perhaps he had inherited her spirit, then, if he inherited her eyes? Would having his father's strength mean that he had his father's might and strength of will?

After their conjectures along these lines, his parents would finally have a moment to give his name. That was the sad part, though. People only learned his name after his parents introduced him.

When in the presence of his parents, nobody ever asked for his name until his parents introduced him. In fact, the first time somebody asked his name was when he embarked on his own quest with Tyrell and Karis.

When he wasn't with his parents. When he was finally standing by himself, as an individual. Not as their child.

That didn't mean that he was disowning them, Matthew quickly amended to himself. He loved his parents more than anyone else in the world, and he was proud to be their child. It was just that, while others' preconceptions were understandable, they still saddened him.

Who was he? Was he his parents or himself?

Did he have a choice?

"_Saving the world is sort of the family business for them…"_

When Kraden had uttered those words, it had been a humorous irony. After there had been time for the words to sink in, however, Matthew was struck by the accuracy of the statement.

But was "saving the world" simply mandatory if he was their child? Was he was predestined toward the "family business" just by being born?

If the "family business" was "saving the world," it appeared that the "family business" also included the destruction of the world prior to the saving of it. He pushed his bangs out of his face as he wondered how his parents had dealt with the knowledge of lives lost in the process of rescuing the world's peoples.

Had the knowledge of destruction weighed just as heavily on their shoulders?

Or had his own attempt to lead and his journey's path only caused more devastation than they could have achieved?

Did the increased loss of life simply signify a greater failure on his part as a leader? That he wasn't as good as his father, that he was letting his parents down and everyone else around him? Did the death the shadows caused befall the world because he didn't have the strength and wit of his parents?

Because he wasn't them?

The questions weighted his heart, dragging his spirits down again.

Kraden had told them that the effects of the Eclipse weren't entirely their fault, but that didn't mean that it wasn't to any extent, either. The sin was only lessened fractionally.

Matthew just didn't know what the penance was to bring back all of the lives that were lost due to their naivety.

There were days in which he was proud to be his parents' child. No matter what happened, he would always love them and wouldn't trade them for anyone else in the world.

He knew that. The pressure others put on him to become his parents simply dragged him down and made him question himself. He shook his head to clear the shadows, knowing that as soon as he thought about his parents, remembered their faces, their quirks, what made them his parents and what made them _his_, he would no longer doubt. What nobody else in the entire world had that his parents had.

No one else had his mother's smile; her touch when, as a child, she held him and healed his boyish cuts and scrapes; her hands when, as a child, she wiped away his tears; her voice when, as a child, she sang him lullabies to chase away his nightmares and comfort him, the same lullabies that he could still hear whispering and would sometimes secretly replay from his memory in his mind, courageous warmth that shone like candles among the growing shadows of his fears, a guardian in the darkness of the evil powers around him, bringing comfort and courage to him and aiding him in his slumber…

No one else had his father's grin when he and Tyrell pulled a crazy stunt that the adults found hilarious; his hands when he'd clap him on his shoulder in praise; his voice when he'd proclaim his pride in an accomplishment, like when Matthew had first awakened his psynergy (even though it resulted in the loss of one of the lookout cabin windows and his father was supposed to have scolded him); his strength when he had defended him from some anti-Adept thugs that had attempted to harm him and his parents when he was four; his calm, collected mind that could easily calculate the safest possible routes during their training in the mountains around Mt. Aleph; his unperturbed demeanor that allowed nothing to cloud his reason; his strong embrace that always offered Matthew security when he was anxious, the one that he would replay sometimes in his mind at night during those times he felt the most lost or afraid; his confidence in his son that gave Matthew courage when he didn't know what to do or how to guide their slowly growing group, even when things seemed to be falling apart around him…

He would never trade his parents for anyone else in the world, even if others saw only them in him instead of himself. It didn't matter if he lost his identity in their presence.

After all, the answer had already been in front of him. He had only had to think back and remember his parents' words when he'd spoken to them about it, remember his mother's smile, his father's laugh:

"_Is that what was bothering you, Matthew? Don't worry about it. It doesn't matter what other people say. You are not a clone of us; they are trying to relive the fame of our journey through you when they shouldn't. Don't listen to them. You'll always be our child, but you will also always be Matthew. Not Isaac or Jenna. _You are Matthew_. One day, you will go on your own journey, have your own adventures, and probably have your own name known. And even if you never venture on a quest, you'll always be Matthew. We'll always be proud that you are our son, and we would have no one else, because no one else could ever be _you_."_

Even if he had lost his identity before, he would claim a new one, without erasing the old one. Even if other people questioned it, he knew who he was—

He was the son of Isaac and Jenna, two of the Warriors of Vale.

But he was also Matthew. He was on his own quest and making his own name, for better results or for worse.

And if saving the world just happened to fit into his quest, too, then he would be proud to uphold the family tradition. There was nothing wrong about following in your parents' footsteps. Even if the end result was the same, it was the journey that differed.

For Matthew, that comforting detail made all of the difference in the world.

Now, as he closed his eyes, remembering his mother's smile, his father's grin, it wasn't with unease that he called their images forward, unsure of whom he was in relation to them.

It was pride.

He rose to stand firmly on the deck, turning to face the quickly approaching mainland and the coming challenge of Apollo Sanctum. He breathed in his mother's encouragement and his father's courage, the confidence he knew that they had in him, as himself, not as an extension of themselves.

He knew he wouldn't let them down.

After all, he was Matthew, their son.

As Matthew, he would make them proud.

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A/N: And that's that! I hope that you enjoyed Matthew's little blip. The ending turned out cheerier than I'd thought. I'm not sure who's next, but we'll find out!

Please R&R and share your thoughts!


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